Singing
by wanderingsmith
Summary: S/J - Broca 1x04 moved to post-Grace 7x13


Summary: Broca 1x04 moved to post-Grace 7x13  
Rating: NC17 for adult themes  
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.

AN: _I was supposed to get my a** off this computer.. I'd like to blame someone.. but I think it's my own damn fault. sigh_

She briefly wished that she'd moved before he covered the skin that had captured all of her senses; the sight of power, the scent of *Jack*. But regret had no purpose, especially when it could so easily be remedied.

Sam closed the last of the distance between them with a powerful pull on his unresisting shoulders, her open lips and tongue demanding access to his. This was her mate and she was in need, rejection did not occur to her.

Jack couldn't hold back a moan, for a minute taken too much by surprise to even *think* of resisting something he'd spent the last seven years dreaming about; *needing*. His eyes slid shut as the heat of her body came into scorching contact with his, tank top and t-shirt be damned. Soft breasts he'd spent way too much time ogling crushed into his chest as her hands flowed roughly over his shoulders and back while his arms windmilled, the need for balance almost forgotten under the hunger he felt through her lips, the hunger deep inside him that was throwing off shackles and reaching to overrun him, overrun any thoughts...

When her hands slid under his shirt and touched his bare skin he shivered, his brain kick-starting itself with a struggle. For some reason, it had never occurred to him to imagine anything so wild, but *damn* it felt good. His fingers were tightly curled in Samantha's hair, their lips and teeth and tongues literally fighting for dominance. When she dug the nails of one hand into his nape, the pain made the faint instinctive voice of 'something's wrong' crystallize and he found the will to jerk out of her very tight grip enough to mutter "Samantha? What-" Though with nowhere near enough authority.

"I want you," she gritted the words out, angry at the interruption, resettling her hand on the top of his spine and forcing him back against her; where he *belonged*! She *needed* to taste him, needed to breathe him; he should know that.

'Want you.' Jack had to force himself away right then and there or those words would drive him to something he was getting very much afraid she would regret; and hate him for. "*Carter*! This is out of li- oomf!" He lost his breath when she pulled him off balance and slammed him onto the bench in front of his locker.

Sam listened to her mate's gasp with pleasure -he was *hers*, to do with as she would!-. Grinding her sex into his crotch, she showed her teeth in a satisfied grin at his aroused state; yes, *hers*! She'd watched him barely wince from her playful treatment, aroused by the warrior she claimed; seeing her ID tags swing by his mouth, visual poof of his belonging to her, she growled, tired of his teasing, "Don't you want me?" She leaned back down, recapturing him, pressing her swollen nipples against his muscled chest for relief from the burning need coursing through her; she *needed*-

"Yes!" Shit! Jack moved his head sideways, swearing at his verbal slip into dangerous honesty, trying to get his mouth clear, feeling his mind getting downright dizzy with the sexual need that Samantha was riling up madly. But the absolute certainty that he had to fight *this*, of all damned- "I mean, no!" The words were still mumbled against the lips sliding over his, biting and suckling and driving him crazy. "For crying out-" Obviously getting annoyed, she growled again against him -Carter+growling = trouble; why oh *why* couldn't they ever kiss without work interfering??-. Her hands took a grip on his head to try to hold him for her kiss as she rocked on his cock, making him cry out into her mouth at the blast of pleasure ratcheting through him.

Fuck! That was it, another second of this and- It took every damned bit of his trained control to make himself grab her shoulders, swing his leg around her thigh, and use his whole body to throw her off him and onto the floor.

Sam cried out as his weight landed on her, pleasure sparkling through her. Yes! Finally! He growled in response to her cry and she automatically exposed her neck, eager for his possession.

He had to get her to the infirmary, had to- Jack was bending over without thought, unable to resist; closing his mouth on Samantha's offered neck, her pulse wild under his bottom lip as he gently bit the cartilage next to it. He groaned, violently making himself pull away from the taste, his whole body at war, wanting, *needing* to take this woman, never mind his mind yelling that something was bloody damned wrong if he was even *thinking* of hurting Samantha, even if it was just with a love bite.

##

Lying in the infirmary waiting for Janet to declare her cured, Sam was trying to assimilate this latest batch of strange memories before they faded. Damn, my imagination is pitiful, she thought ruefully. If her imaginary Jack had kissed her like that... she shivered with pleasure again at the remembered feeling of teeth closing on her neck as he *growled*(!)... She was lost in the memory and fingering the still-sore spot when Janet walked in and smirked.

"*He* still looks like a man who's been *thoroughly* kissed." The doctor's tone was bland, but that didn't take any of the amusement out of the words.

Sam groaned, closing her eyes as Janet took a last blood pressure reading, "Great. *More* damned rumours. "

"Oh yes. After you were wheeled by his cell on the way to surgery, it was only thanks to Teal'c that we were able to control him. Four SFs on the floor and it still took another two with Teal'c for me to get the anaesthetic in him. I made everyone start carrying tranq-guns after that." She looked at Sam's open-mouthed shock, deciding she should have the whole story if she was going to deal with the results. "Yes, there's going to be a fresh set of rumours. One of the last words that were recognizable out of his mouth was your name, your first name. Screamed in fury when you were attacked," she frowned, "Don't ask me how he *knew* you were under attack..."

Sam swore softly, aware of the sampling needle smoothly sliding into her elbow, "I remember my hearing was pretty sharp. All my senses felt hyper, every feeling too powerful to resist..."

Patting Sam's arm comfortingly, Janet helped her up, "Hey, I'm just glad we somehow avoided anyone being raped, maimed or killed. With a base full of soldiers who definitely don't all get along, not to mention a few scientists who couldn't protect themselves from a 5 year-old Jaffa, it was pretty damned terrifying to wonder what would happen when the balance between affected and healthy passed the point where we could catch and sedate the ones who changed before they did damage."

Sam looked at her friend, feeling guilty for her petty concerns when things could have been so much worse. A few more rumours was just a temporary annoyance; in the long-term there were already so many out there that it hardly mattered. And as for their relationship.. she grimaced as she left the infirmary, they'd worked their way through more than one of these slips before. She shook her head, refusing to analyze it right now; she was going home, more interested in getting away from the knowing grins than in burying herself in work. She really hated being the first one down with a bug. Everyone else got to remember every embarrassing detail of her fall while she didn't have any of *them* to mollify herself.

She was in the mood for a few hours of Die hard; just mindless action and explosions that would end well and that she could lose herself in. Giving her mind the time to bury all the conflicted emotions that the virus had dug up and left behind in a jumbled pile, mixed in with just too many fresh and powerful memories of sexual pleasure and need for her to easily forget or deny any of it. She wasn't even sure she wanted to forget; when was the last time she'd felt that alive? The last time she'd felt that connected to another human being?

##

By the time she woke from a torrid dream that left her soaked in sweat and dripping with need, Sam was utterly convinced that going on a *date*, let along a blind date with some cop friend of her brother's, was, at very best, a waste of time.

Calling the number Mark had given her and cancelling with an uncharacteristically blunt 'I realized I'm taken', Sam had a brief chill as she remembered how mixed up she'd still been two days ago from her stay on the Prometheus. She was planning to give that guy every damned chance.. she winced, trying to shake off the feeling of having escaped an invisible, self-tied noose.

She decided to drive the bike in, rejoicing at feeling the freedom so much more completely than she had for what seemed like years. She was grinning under her helmet as she floored the gas. Just for a minute on a flat stretch, feeling her body and mind both opening wide to sensation; taking a deep, satisfying breath in spite of the acceleration force acting on her lungs. The weight of the universe was just a little easier to bear, her perspective not nearly so fogged with angst. She felt young again, full of hope for the future, however distant it might be.

##

Apologizing to Daniel had been simpler than he'd expected, his old buddy had been way too smiley as he'd stared at Jack's lips, even with the wince-worthy cuts and bruises on his face. Getting just a little uncomfortable, the colonel had backed away with a forcibly casual, "Okay then, glad we cleared that up."

Teal'c had shrugged off his thanks for lending his muscles to keeping him from hurting more people without a word. Though Jack had a very bad feeling he'd caught the bare hint of a smirk on the Jaffa's face. He was torn between wanting to see the tapes of the last few days for himself so he would know once and for all how bad it was.. and.. definitely *not* wanting to know how much he'd given away to all and sundry.

And now. Now Jack was dreading the next confrontation. Turning the last corner to Sama- Damn it! To *Carter*'s, he *had* to get his head on straight, to Carter's lab, he stopped short, frowning in confusion. That almost sounded like.. singing??

As he cautiously approached the doorway, Jack wracked his brains for any occasion where he'd heard Samantha sing. Let along sing-

"-Make a, *man* out of you, 'cause I'm a, *woman*! W o, m a n."

Yeahhhhh, okay. To call the infirmary; or *not* to call the infirmary? Maybe someone else could report her going nuts this time? He peeked inside the room to try to assess the danger before he called Teal'c and begged him to come be the one to *find* her. He saw Carter, sitting at her bench, fiddling with a colourful doohickey. That was the normal bit. Jack stood, quietly smiling now, unable to worry in the face of the kind of megawatt Carter-smile that he'd missed. Viscerally.

He was trying to remember the last time he'd seen it, the last time it had been aimed at *him*, when the off-key singing switched to a husked Black velvet that made his eyes drop shut as a shiver flowed down his spine; nope, Samantha couldn't carry a tune in a naquadah generator, but those words were audio sex even in plain speech, never mind in a husky, *heartfelt* voice.

"Sir?"

His eyes popped open, meeting bright blue ones. Oops! So busted. The wide grin still on her lips went a long way to reassuring him that she wasn't going to either kill him for leaving that mark on her neck or demand a transfer from some screwed up guilt or shame. "Hey Sa- Carter," he kept his face blank as he swore at himself. From the moment he'd decided that calling her Carter was the only safe option, he'd never once had this kind of trouble.

Her smile mellowed and she got a little more serious, "Actually sir, I'm glad you came by. I wanted to apologize-"

He waved her silent, "Not to worry, major, you were under the influence of an alien bug, nothing to forgive," His fingers found a ratchet on her bench to play with, "Though I should apologize too, for..." he pointed the tool vaguely toward her neck.

Sam watched as Jack avoided her eyes, remembering the soft look she'd caught on his face when she'd noticed him in her doorway. Aside from his usual twitching fingers and the unwillingness to look at her, he seemed relaxed enough, which gave her a world of reassurance that he wasn't freaked out by the inherent revelations of the last few days. Her grin widened, back to feeling very good indeed; Janet was right, he was good and bruised, and it didn't take a primitive mindset to feel a boost of feminine pride in that. Not when she remembered the very mixed reaction he'd had to her 'attack'.

"As you said, nothing to apologize for," she hesitated, throwing a quick glance at the door before finishing in a soft voice, "Jack."

*That* made his eyes finally meet hers. She wondered if he could read her; could tell the realization, the *choice* she'd made. Skipping 'sir' was one thing, but replacing it with his given name was something they both knew Sam usually only did when one of them had a close encounter with Death.

"Car-" she saw him swallow quickly, looking half-terrified in a way that she wasn't used to from the man who threw smartalec responses in Apophis' teeth, "Samantha?" Oh. How did he manage to make her actually *like* that name?

Answering the need for confirmation inherent in the soft voice and physical stillness, Sam took another glance at her still-clear doorway and kept her voice low, for his ears only, "I was just thinking about.. rooms," She watched him steadily, aware that he was letting her see more emotions that he had since the days when he answered to Jonah, aware suddenly that she really had far too much power to hurt this man. Fiercely glad she had gotten her head on straight before it was too late, "Thinking about eventually finding ways of getting *into* rooms."

In the quiet of the lab, Jack could hear his own pulse jackhammering like he'd run 5 miles, "Yeah?" Where the heck had that rasp come from? Why did he never have any cool around this woman?

After seven years, he guessed he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't react to his weird voice shifts, but seeing her nod calmly, still looking cheerful and.. 'happy'. *That* was what that expression was. Was he giving himself too much credit to think he was at least partially responsible for its return? Though it was damned terrifying to think he could be responsible for anything so precious; so easily messed up with any little fumble on his part.

But she didn't sound like she was going to pull the door to that room open right then and there, so he fell back on humour, feeling rather attached to that smile of hers and hoping he could make it appear more often. He cleared his throat and half-grinned, "So," he waggled a brow, "Song-worthy?"

AN: _thanks for catching the bad rdamel :)_


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